The World Of Beacon Hills
by awelsh
Summary: Alexander Payne and an assortment of odd relations have just moved clear across the country to support old family ties back in Beacon Hills. Stiles Stilinski is the boy next door, Jackson is intrigued, and Derek thinks it would be better to kill the guy. Soon enough Alex is dragged into the crazy and disarming world of the supernatural.
1. Relocation

**Authors Note:**

**I'm not sure how successful OC-centric fanfics are, I know that I myself hardly ever read them, but the idea for the main character and all of his family just came to me, and I had to start writing.**

**This will contain most of the characters you know and love, and is centered around the new arrival Alex and the friendships and relationships that grow between him and the Beacon Hills residents.**

**This will be slow build for any relationships that develop, but will most probably have smut (who am I kidding, I can't resist some smut!) in it eventually, so I'm just rating it M so I don't have to change it later. Plus there will be explicit language, and some mild drug and alcohol use.**

**I hope you enjoy it, please review to let me know what you think. It's been a few months since I watched Teen Wolf, so I apologise if some of the characters seem a little off, or if I forget a few details.**

**For a visual of how I envisage Alex, see the link on my profile, if you'd rather make him your own then feel free to do so.**

* * *

California disgusted Alex.

The heat, the sun, the landscape, all of it made him want to tear his hair out. He yearned for the grey skies and tangle of skyscrapers and people that he had grown up with. Yearned for a place where people pissed on you on the subway and no one smiled as you walked past. He must have gotten fifty smiles just between getting off the plane and getting into the car, and every one of them was met with a cold gaze.

Alex Payne wasn't a moody boy. Well, he was as moody as any hormonal seventeen year old can be, but generally he was a happy guy. He loved listening to music, hanging out with his friends in Central Park, hitting the Brooklyn bars to listen to the best new bands. But he couldn't do that here, no siree. Even music was being kept from him, his mother had control of the stereo and kept blasting the most ridiculous rap and hip hop songs, mixed with show tunes and classical pieces.

Olga Payne was a strange woman, all her children agreed. Given a name that suited her as much as a fish suited being on land, she was born Olga Archer in Germany to an American father and a German mother, and left her home country at the age of ten for the bright lights of Manhattan. There she had met David Payne, married him after a lengthy courtship, and popped out five children. Always wanting to be in on the newest trends, her current obsessions were fishing guidebooks, Azealia Banks, and hot pink clothes.

"Turn this shit off." Rory, Alex's brother, grumbled, wishing he had an iPod so he could block out the music his mother had turned up to full.

"I'm a hood bitch, baby!" She yelled, laughing at her children's obvious discomfort as she watched them in the rear-view mirror.

"Oh my god, you're so embarrassing." Sam, a fifteen year old mirror image of her mother, shot a look of disdain to the front of the car, trying to stop the smile that threatened to break her frown.

Alex actually thought his mom was kind of fun, but she could definitely be embarrassing, he'd give Sam that much.

"This is going to be so fun, right kids?" Olga grinned, her thin, sculpted face turning to smile at the four bodies in the back of the seven seater, brushing a wry strand of curly blonde hair away from her pink glossed lips.

"Yeah. Great. Cos there's so much to do here." Alex let out a groan as they passed the Beacon Hills city limits sign, the houses growing in number, more people coming into view.

"There's a lot to do here, I grew up here, I think I should know." David, Alex's dad and possibly the second strangest person he knew after his mother, grinned as he turned the car down a side street.

David Payne had been born in Beacon Hills forty-seven years ago, leaving for New York when he was eighteen and never looking back. He'd visited the place for family reunions and the like, but it was in his past. Until now.

"It looks like fucking crap!" Rory yelled, trying to dodge out of the way unsuccessfully as his mother gave him a playful slap across his head, messing up his dark red hair.

"No more swearing," She admonished with a grin, "It does like kind of shitty though." All the kids burst out laughing as David shook his head, a smile on his lips. Olga had never taken the normal approach to parenting.

"Home sweet home." Alex said quietly as they pulled up outside the expansive white house. The street was almost classic suburbia, save the fact most of the houses were hidden behind shrubbery and foliage, and there were only a few people to be seen.

"God, we gave up a west side brownstone for _this_?" Rory shook his head, referring to the enormous town house they had owned in New York. Technically they still owned it, just their sister and eldest sibling was living their now, with her investment banker husband and a newborn baby who had been blessed with a name their strange sibling had made up herself.

"It's fun!" Olga grinned, taking Maria, a shy ten year old who got all of their fathers looks, by the hand and leading her up the few steps to the path.

Alex felt sick to his stomach. Their old house had five stories, this house had two. He could tell there was an attic and a basement, but those didn't count in his books. He'd never get a moments peace from his family, especially as he had, lets see, all of zero friends here. It was going to be a lot of time on the computer.

"When's Helen coming?" Alex asked as he helped his dad with the suitcases in the trunk. All their furniture had been shipped ahead of them, and if David's sister had done her job right should be waiting inside.

"Later on, we'll have a dinner." Rory and Sam were running around their father and brother fighting each other, yelling and grinning. Rory yelped as Maria whacked him over the head with a stick she had found on the ground. "You know," His father took Alex aside from the others, his arm wrapped around his shoulder, "Helen needs us. I get that you don't want to be here, but you understand, right?"

Alex understood. Aunt Helen had been diagnosed with cancer three months ago. Chemo, radiotherapy, experimental surgeries, none of it was working. It made him feel guilty for even _thinking _that it was a dumb idea to move here when he remembered the real reason they were here.

Family first.

It was his fathers motto. Their mothers was fun first.

With a weak smile he reassured his father, tried to put on a happy face, and started up to the house, dragging the massive case full of his stuff behind him.

* * *

He hadn't trusted the movers, who would have been travelling all the way across the country with all his possessions in the world, not to break or lose something, so he had packed up everything essential and lugged it onto the plane. He was unzipping it now, in his new bedroom. It looked much the same as his old one had, Olga had tried to ensure her children didn't feel out of place, and had dipped into the Payne fortune – something she rarely did – and hired a nice gay decorator who had basically recreated four bedrooms, taking them from New York to Beacon Hills.

It was a big room, bigger than the brownstones bedroom, with white panelling covering one half of the walls, while the top halves were painted a deep green. Green was his favourite colour, he just wished he had green eyes. The genetic lottery had served him brown, just like his father and his brother and his youngest sister. Only Sam got the green eyes of their mother.

His record player was already set up, but most of the records were in his case. He would have been surprised if the movers had brought them and they weren't warped when they got here, so he had just took them himself. Hundreds of thin discs slipped inside their cases were soon stacked up by the chest of drawers the record player was on. Books filled the shelves above his bed, his favourite extra long iPod wire was plugged into the socket behind his end table with the desperately needing a charge phone attached, pens and paper and blue tac and rubbers and pencils were shoved into the pots around his desk, the gleaming, brand new iMac in the middle of the desk making his heart flutter.

He knew how ridiculous it was to have spent such an obscene amount of money on the thing, but his dad had _promised _him anything he wanted if he was compliant with the move. So compliant he had been, and in return he had chosen the biggest iMac available and added every possible extra to it, using his dads credit card and pressing buy with a knot in his stomach.

When the bill had came back at almost nine thousand dollars he thought his dad might break his cardinal rule and beat Alex for the first time ever, but he had just screamed and yelled at how obscene it was before he stalked out of the house. Alex had very calmly pointed out his mom's thirty thousand dollar necklace that David had given her for her birthday, and Olga had laughed in response, ruffling Alex's brown curls and telling him he could keep the computer.

His old MacBook Pro was soon fished out of his backpack and laid down on the desk by the much more impressive machine. It had been a Christmas present, and Alex laughed at how it had cost a third of what his moving present had.

"How's the room?" Olga's blonde curls appeared round the open doorway, taking in her sons already messy bedroom, doing a little dance to The Velvet Underground song that was playing as she crossed the room.

"I love you." Alex grinned as he hugged her. He was at least a head taller than her, at six two, and the sight of her tall son almost made her cry again. She always cried with a huge smile on her face when she saw her children growing up.

"I love you too-oo, I do-oo!" She joked as they parted, jumping onto the bed in her bare feet and doing a little bounce.

"Get off there or you're grounded!" Alex said, laughing as he started packing away the boxes of clothes that were dumped by the wardrobe.

"You're no fun," The song was soon changed to Kanye West as she started to help her son, holding up his array of underwear and whooping as she packed things away, smiling a the blush that covered Alex's cheeks as she picked up a particularly racy pair of AussieBum briefs in red.

"I bought them as a joke!" He bristled, snatching the wonderjock from her hands. He _had _bought them as a joke, but she didn't believe him. He didn't believe himself any more, he loved those briefs.

"Only sluts wear red, kiddo." She grinned, showcasing perfect white teeth.

"Well what's this?!" She was leaning over, packing endless pairs of thick socks into his bottom drawer, a tiny strip of red, lacy underwear peeping over her jeans.

"Never you mind." A giggle escaped her lips, and for a second it was like she was eighteen again. What she would give for those days.

"Yeah, yeah. Get out, I wanna get changed." Alex embraced her in another quick hug, wanting her out of there so he could swap the crumpled clothes he had spent what felt like hundreds of hours in.

It wasn't like he meant to start watching porn, he reflected as he sat at the Mac. He had changed into navy sweats and a grey t shirt, and was testing out the computer for the first time. Of course, it was a total accident that he had stumbled onto this particular website. In a few quick seconds he had closed the shades and locked the door. Headphones in, pants down and legs spread, he got to work. Hey, he was a teenager after all.

* * *

A little flushed and a great deal more relaxed, Alex headed down the twisting staircase thirty minutes later, a huge grin on his face. It was amazing what a sexual release did for a teenager. This place wouldn't be so bad, he thought as he hopped down the carpet coated steps to the foyer, passing under the arch to the living room, and through another to the dining room.

The double doors leading to the garden were thrown open, and a lush green lawn was there to greet him. A garden. That was a luxury California offered in spades compared to New York. Their old garden had been a tiny little stone covered thing, overgrown with weeds and moss with a broken fountain in the centre. The garden here, on the other hand, almost had too much space.

An expanse of lawn began after a small patio area directly outside the dining room, bordered by trees and shrubs, with a sturdy tree house (commissioned by the nice, aforementioned decorator) adorning a huge elm. A massive eucalyptus grew parallel to the elm, both of the trees standing sentient either side of the wrought iron gate with masses of tall, wild hedges and shrubbery covering the moss coated wall that ran from the gate. Beyond that gate, steps led down to a red brick patio, with a pool surrounded by designer lounge chairs.

A pool! He had never imagined they could have something so huge in their _house_. If he wanted to swim in New York he had two choices: school or the SoHo House. Another point for California.

Beside the pool was the guest house, which was reserved for Olga's reclusive sister, who was apparently coming to stay with them for a while, though Alex was unsure about that one, Ursula Archer was erratic, always travelling around the world with her lottery winnings making new friends then promptly ignoring them. He was positive his family was one of the strangest out there.

Sam and Maria were already laid out in bikinis on the grass, while Rory was under the shade of an umbrella, playing on his phone. Rory couldn't tan, his skin just burnt as red as his hair then quickly faded back to white. Sam, however, was already turning a golden brown thanks to the oil she was using, while Maria was a little red.

"Hey dick," Rory said, punching Alex on the arm as he joined him. A few bowls of fruit had been laid out across the long, glass table, but by who he couldn't say. His mom was upstairs unpacking, while his dad had gone to pick up aunt Helen.

"Ass. Did you make this?" Alex asked. Rory snorted in response. Getting him into a kitchen for anything but eating would be harder than getting Olga to be appropriate.

"The maid woman did it." His brother shrugged, deciding he was bored of Alex and putting his headphones in.

"It's _housekeeper_." The woman's voice made Alex jump a little, looking up to see a dark haired, casually dressed woman emerging from the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade and a tray of glasses in her hand. "I'm Sammy, nice to meet you." A coarse hand was extended once she had placed the drinks on the table, which Alex shook gladly, still a little confused.

"Nice to meet you,"

"Good handshake. Better than your brother." She grinned, showing her slightly crooked teeth and giving a nod to Rory, who was oblivious.

"No one told me we had a ma -" Her eyebrows raised at what she knew he was about to call her, "- uh, housekeeper."

"Mrs. Montrose-Payne sent me over. I am to oversee the move, provide food and refreshments, and generally help put around the house, on an indefinite basis." She smiled, pouring a glass of lemonade for Alex before she ambled back to the house to start lunch. Mrs Montrose-Payne. Candice. Alex groaned as he remembered his grandmother. He had seen little of her, she was too busy lording over the Beacon Hills social scene from her colonial mansion in the twisting hills where the elite lived, but from what he remembered she was a fearsome snob who had only married his grandfather for the money. An ex-beauty queen with social ambitions to rival a desperate New York socialite, she was considered the _crème de la crème _of Beacon Hills society, and clearly she was going to be as interfering as his dad had thought she would be.

"Mom won't be happy." Sam pointed out, rolling onto her stomach so she could look at Alex.

"Mom likes to cook." Maria added, giving Alex a grin before, much like Rory, her attention span waned and she jumped up off the grass, running into the house.

"She does like to cook though. If this _Sammy_," Sam raised her eyebrows and flicked her blonde hair back, as if cursing the woman for daring to steal her name, "starts interfering she'll probably get fired or something."

"She won't get fired, grandma has probably got her to sign a water tight contract saying she can only leave on pain of death." Alex said, stealing a grape out of Rory's hands as Sam giggled.

"She's a piece of work, old Candice." Olga, who had been stood in the doorway listening, said as she crossed the lawn and sat down an a squirming Rory's knee.

"Gerrof!" He grumbled, a flush the same colour as his hair creeping over his face as Olga wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

"What did I do to deserve such a cruel son?" She stuck out her bottom lip in mock sadness as Alex laughed.

"Look whose here!" David's voice was added to the chatter of his family as he emerged from the dining room, aunt Helen wading behind him.

"Hey kids." Her voice was coarse from years of smoking, and her skin had a yellow tinge to it. A happy, genuine smile was plastered across her face, chubby cheeks lifting up as she grinned. Alex jumped up to embrace her, he had always liked aunt Helen.

She was forty nine years old and looked every inch of it. A two pack a day habit had resulted in her cancer, skin yellowed from lack of sun and chemotherapy, her very expensive wig hiding the bare skin beneath it. Helen Payne had been average looking when she was growing up, finally getting her first boyfriend when she hit seventeen and the family cheekbones started to make their appearance. Then she had discovered it. Chocolate. Her biggest weakness, she had gorged on mountains of the stuff every day, until she had gained forty pounds and lost her man. She turned to smoking to try and suppress her appetite, with no change except that she was then addicted to nicotine as well as chocolate. Years later she was three hundred pounds and nursing a drinking habit to rival her mother.

The cancer had, ironically, kick started her desire for life, she had lost twenty pounds in the past three months, went through an intensive drug programme to rid her of her bad habits, and started painting again, but she knew she still had to make strides if she wanted to live.

"I've missed you," Alex beamed as he hugged her tightly, glad that she seemed happier than the last time he saw her, strange seeing as she now had cancer.

"Look who she brought," His dad grinned, making a clicking noise with his tongue.

"Uffie!" Alex and Sam yelled at the same time as the tiny black dog, pink tongue hanging out, ran into the garden.

Uffie had been the favourite member of the family for the past three years, and had been shipped to Beacon Hills a week before they arrived to stay with Aunt Helen till they got in. A ragged and rather mangy looking mongrel, her black fur was always matted no matter how expensive the conditioner was, she was always hungry even though she was fed her own portion of whatever was for dinner that night, and one ear was missing.

Alex loved her with all his heart.

It had been a late night in Central Park when he found her under a bush, her whines bringing him over to her. A broken, blooded paw had prevented her usually quick movements, and it was clear she had been living on the mean streets for a while. He liked to imagine she had been kicked out of a rich east side penthouse for being too ugly, instead surviving on the streets were she had to fight to survive, hence the missing ear. He imagined himself her saviour, for, against his friends wishes, he had picked her up, getting a huge scratch down his forearm which was now a silvery-white scar, and spirited her away to the vet.

Dr Treydor had suggested she be put down, but Alex and Olga, who had joined him as soon as she heard there was an injured animal, had protested and shouted down the usually very persuasive doctor, who had performed hours of surgery on her until she was all fixed up. Alex had wanted to put up posters to see if she belonged to anyone, but his mom couldn't bear to let the little thing, who had instantly fallen in love with her, out of her sight. So they had just checked for tags, found none, and planted their own in her and taken her off to her new home.

"Put the song on!" His mom yelled, jumping out of Rory's lap and leaning down on the grass so Uffie ran into her arms.

"Do I have too?" Sam groaned, wanting to tan under the hot sun. She huffed and puffed all the way to the table, where her iPod was plugged into the speakers. Sam had been the one to name the mongrel, a twelve year old Sam who Olga let listen to the rather explicit lyrics of the French-American rapper Uffie.

Alex had protested till the end, but as soon as Sam had uttered the name the dog had responded, and no matter how many names Alex tried she would only respond to Uffie.

_ 'Y__ou wanna talk about it, let me talk about it, I've got the sound that kill, and there's nothing like it' _Olga took Uffie into her arms as her namesake started blasting through the garden. Rory shouted for her to turn it down as she cranked the volume up to maximum, one hand extended straight up to the sky and a huge grin on her face as her swung her hips around.

_ 'we're in the dark, no one can see, so i can touch your body' _Helen grinned as her sister-in-law continued to dance, singing along to the lyrics and swinging Uffie around, letting the rough pink tongue lick her face.

"That's disgusting." Sam laughed, joining her mother on the grassy dance floor. Helen huffed her way across the lawn, pumping her arms in the air, glad that her family were here. She had felt bad when David told her he was moving clear across the country just for her, but now she was more appreciative than ever.

"Come on, Alex." David snaked an arm over his sons shoulder, joining the girls and doing one of those awful dad-dances, his head bobbing back and forth, singing about how he was famous and partied like a rock star. Alex was a mildly better dancer, but it was still pretty bad, all shaking hips and swinging arms and a huge grin.

"I came to rock the party!" Maria sung, climbing onto the table and wiggling her little hips as the song repeated itself. None of them could stop grinning, maybe California wouldn't be so bad.

"You guys are _so _embarrassing." Rory grumbled, turning away from his hysterically laughing family with a groan.

* * *

Dinner was a happy affair, everyone gorging on mountains of pasta that Sammy had whipped up and practically covered the table with. They ate at the kitchen table, which was less grand than the shiny mahogany creation in the dining room, a long expanse of scrubbed wood that could seat ten. The sunset poured through the floor to ceiling glass that surrounded them on three sides, the table was right in the middle of a conservatory-type area that led directly to the kitchen through an arch so big that there might as well have not even been any wall.

Aunt Helen told them all what they has missed since they last saw her, skipping out any of _those _cancer conversations for another time. Today was happy, and she wanted it to stay that way.

"Can someone take Uffie for a walk? Anyone? Come on!" Olga groaned as she relaxed on a massive, plush couch in the living room, flipping channels until a Rachmaninoff recording with a slide show of the composer started up.

"No." Five voices said lazily. Alex shrugged, he wanted to walk anyway.

"Go with your brother." His mom told Uffie, tying the hot pink lead she had bought onto her matching hot pink, crystal encrusted collar and depositing her in Alex's arms. He let the little mongrel run around on the lawn as he slipped into his converse, throwing a back sweatshirt over his grey tee.

The night was warm, but he was used to worse with the blazing New York summers, and he found himself musing about the whole situation while he strolled along with a very happy Uffie at his feet – she loved all the pavement space, even dogs knew what a commodity _that_ was in New York. Okay, so California wasn't _that _bad, but the worst part would be school, he was sure of it. He had attended a fee-paying prep back in New York, but the only option in this town was Beacon Hill's high, which aunt Helen said was ruled by a popular clique of kids that made life hell for everyone who they didn't like. Alex was pretty sure they wouldn't like him.

He wasn't weird or anything, well, he didn't think so, but he wasn't really into the whole social scene. He had his friends, or he had done back home, and he stuck to them. He wasn't a social butterfly like Sam, or a jock who made friends instantly like Rory. His ambitions were blurred, he really had no idea what he wanted to do, the only thing he could think of when he was asked was being a writer, though he thought all of his drabbles were too crap to show anyone, so he buried them away in password protected files and hid anything written inside a locked chest under his bed.

Prayers were sent to the god he didn't believe in to let him make at least _some _friends when he started next week, to at least find someone who shared his interests and humour.

"Uffie! Hey!" Alex shouted after a barking Uffie, swinging around the pink lead that he had let her off for being so good and walking calmly beside him. They had circled the block, and were almost home by now, but she was running up the garden of the house next door, barking furiously.

He knew he had to get her, so he hopped the fence and tried to cut her off from the other side, cursing as she darted through his open legs and ran straight into a wall, turning around and darting into a bush where she found what she could smell.

"Ouch! Help! Scott, this better not be some sort of pup whose gonna be human in a second!" If she had the strength she would have dragged the frame of the boy hiding in the bushes out by her teeth, as it was she just scared him out with her high barks. Alex had no idea what he was talking about, thinking it was probably some inside joke.

"Uh – sorry – she just ran up." Alex rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he spoke, his eyes taking in the tall boy in front of him. His jeans were ripped and his open shirt over a white tee was covered in mud. Sticks and grass were covering his close cropped hair, but he was still grinning despite his appearance.

"That's okay. She's a cute little thing, aren't ya?!" He leaned down to stroke Uffie, getting a nip on his arm for his trouble.

"Uffie!" Alex scolded, grabbing her from behind when she was distracted with growling at the boy and clipping the hot pink lead onto her collar.

"Nice collar," The boy laughed, "I'm Stiles, by the way, and I do live here, I'm not a crazy stalker hiding in bushes." Stiles extended a muddy hand.

"I'm Alex. Nice to meet you, we just moved in next door." Alex smiled an awkward smile, feeling like an idiot, noticing that despite the mess of his clothes and the mud all over him that Stiles still looked pretty good.

"Cool." Stiles, without the excuse of a dog, who was now hiding behind Alex's leg, to ease the awkwardness of a first encounter with someone, threw an equally awkward smile to Alex, finally seeming to realise how he looked and bursting into laughter. "Sorry, I'm a mess. I should go get changed, it's just my luck to meet the new neighbour looking like... this."

They both said a hasty goodbye, but Alex couldn't help but turn back as he reached the gate, dragging Uffie across the grass. She wanted to stay, she could _smell _something on Stiles.

He turned, and so did Stiles. Two sets of brown eyes met and for a second they both grinned without any of the awkwardness they had just experienced. It was gone as quickly as it had lasted. Alex headed next door with a slight smile turning his lips, hearing Stiles' door slam shut as he ambled up the garden path.


	2. Beacon Hills High

**Authors Notes:**

**The extent of my knowledge on American schools comes from television and the internet, so if I have made any mistakes please feel free to correct me.**

* * *

Alex stood with his fingers wrapped around the handle of the kettle as he waited for it to boil, his eyes screwed up to block out the morning light. Instant coffee, which he had always preferred to the real stuff, was spooned out of the jar and into the giant mug, overflowing a little when he poured in the water. Masses of milk finished off his wake up call, and he padded back to his bedroom with the huge mug cradled between his hands.

Today was Monday. Today was school. He had been dreading the moment for the past two weeks, doing copious amounts of research into the school from his obscenely expensive Mac. As he hopped under the shower, the door of his en suite open so he could hear the music, he cursed himself again for choosing a Mac.

Last week, Sam and Rory had smugly informed him that they had chosen cars for their moving presents. _Cars! _Those two got freaking cars, and all he got was a computer. A wonderful, beautiful, amazing computer, but still, it couldn't lift him up and actually carry him places. He was going to have to carpool every day for the next three months until he could ask for a car of his own on his birthday.

Uffie was still singing about driving and fucking and partying and being famous as he left the bathroom with a toothbrush clamped between his teeth, a little white foam spilling onto his bare chest.

_'Marilyn Monroe is turning in her grave.' _The lyrics made him wonder if he would be turning in his own grave later after committing some awful move resulting in social suicide. Sam said social suicide was the worst thing that could ever happen to a person, even worse than regular suicide where the person actually _died _because you were still around to be mocked.

A black t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and thick white socks were soon fished out and thrown unceremoniously onto the rumpled sheets. He held up the red briefs his mom had joked with him about, deciding that they'd make for perfect first day attire. If it was hell at least he could look down and laugh. He ambled slowly downstairs twenty minutes later, refilling his now empty coffee mug and joining a rough looking Olga at the breakfast bar. A morning person she was not.

"Morning," She barked, face buried in the paper. "Don't ask me to take you to school."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Alex replied with a grin. His mom had taken him to school a grand total of three times in her entire life. She was only awake today for moral support, by tomorrow she'd be sleeping till noon once more.

"Top of the mornin' too ya'!" Hid dad grinned, strolling into the room in his terry cloth robe, throwing an apple into the air and catching it over and over.

"Oh god, shut up before my pounding head explodes." Olga grimaced, shoving another piece of Alex's toast in her mouth and washing it down with some of his coffee.

"Where is everyone?" Alex inquired, listening for the usual morning racket that always perpetuated the New York house, finding it strangely quiet.

"They've gone," Olga replied with a frown.

"What?!" Alex panicked, checking his phone for the time but finding he still had a good forty minutes before he had to be there.

"They went to get breakfast at some gas station, apparently those disgusting holes-in-the-wall are _the place _to hang out." Even through her headache Alex's mom couldn't help but laugh. When she was growing up the place to be was the fabric store on the lower east side with the pancake bar in the basement.

"Nice of them to invite me," Alex grumbled in response, not really caring too much apart from the fact that he'd now either have to walk to school or convince his dad to go get dressed. He considered his options as he munched his toast and absently watched the morning news on the small TV on the opposite counter, holding out his mug to his dad for another coffee.

"Morning, sweethearts!" A high, clear voice ran through the room, sweet smelling perfume reaching three sets of nostrils and making them reel with how strong it was. Candice Montrose-Payne stood in the doorway, immaculate in pearls and a Chanel suit in peach.

"Mother!" David almost choked on his tea when he saw his mother, hastily covering his exposed thigh with the thick white robe, jumping up to hug her.

Candice was sixty five years old but could pass for forty on a good day. Today was one of those days. A female version of her son, her expertly dyed brown hair was held up in a simple bun, brown eyes glistening with their very own brand of charisma.

"What are we talking about?" Her handbag sent Olga's paper flying as she sat her thin frame down on the seat beside Alex, one hand gripping his arm to check how his biceps were doing as she simultaneously checked up on his bone structure. She was pleased with his progress since she last saw him, when she had urged him to at least do some jogging, succinctly informing him that no one liked a fatty. David had been enraged. Olga had laughed.

"How I'm gonna get to school." Alex replied through a mouthful of toast, crumbs falling onto the counter.

"Don't be so disgusting," Candice gave his hand a slap away from the butter, throwing the crumbs onto the floor for Sammy to clean up later. Olga giggled next to him as she took two Tylenol. "I can take you to school."

"Oh, thanks, but uh -" He didn't know how to tell her that he really didn't want to show up with the queen of Beacon Hills, though he doubted the teens would even know who she was, but she was _kind of _conspicuous in her shocking peach suit, and she would probably get out of the car and start greeting acquaintances, drawing a lot of unwanted attention.

She shushed him through pursed, red painted lips, "Don't worry about your dear old grandmother embarrassing you, Clive can take you. The doctor said I can't drive for a week after that little operation I had." A secret smile crossed her lips, she had told everyone she was getting something done to help clear a dodgy lung when in actuality she had flown down to Los Angeles for an eye lift.

"Clive _still _works for you?" David asked, tearing his eyes away from the sports news.

"Of course. The best help is loyal help, and Clive is very loyal." Clive was Candice's long time bodyguard/driver/butler and general 'fix it' man. He was completely devoted to his boss, who had paid him a handsome salary for the past thirty seven years that afforded him a months vacation on his own hired tropical island every year. An English expatriate who was forced into showing off his accent for Candice's friends all the time, he knew everything about everybody and could find you at the drop of a hat; he was Beacon Hills' very own Gretchen Wieners, except he was sixty years old and completely bald.

"I'd really rather just walk..." Alex tried to protest. He'd prefer being driven to school by his grandmother than arriving in a chauffeured car. He was going to look like an idiot, especially when he hopped out in his jeans and black t shirt, hardly the picture of wealth and sophistication.

"Nonsense. You should probably go," A glance at her Cartier watch – a present to herself – confirmed her thoughts, and soon Alex was being shoved upstairs with a surprisingly fit Candice hot on his heels. She tutted and made a note on a torn piece of paper for Sammy to clean the room as Alex grabbed his phone (which thankfully doubled as an iPod so he didn't have to carry loads of crap), his pad, his pen (blue and black, just in case), his pencils, rubbers, a ruler, and even a copy of The Catcher in the Rye in case he was a total freak who had to eat lunch alone in the bathroom.

"Ready." He grinned, slipping the backpack on and leaning down to give his grandmother a kiss on the cheek.

"Take this," A hundred dollar bill was pressed into his palm, "get yourself something nice for lunch." He didn't know if she was on medication or if she was just crazy, but he accepted the money with a happy grin. It wasn't like she was lacking in the stuff anyway.

Candice stayed in the doorway, watching her grandsons retreating frame as he headed for the car outside; she was glad he was bulking up slightly, the kid still looked like a bean pole, but at least he wasn't deformed or had a hunch or anything. A giggle left her lips at how superficial she was. She loved it.

* * *

"Sir," Clive nodded his head as Alex hopped over a stone to the side of the black car. Candice was of the opinion limousines were tacky, so she went everywhere in her Bently. Couldn't get more low key than this, Alex thought as the door was held open for him and he slipped into the invitingly warm car.

He had checked the weather and knew it was meant to heat up later, but the morning was surprisingly brisk. Clive gave him another nod in the mirror as they left the house and started sailing down the street.

He had to look away from the window, people were staring at the car as they drove, and he wanted to die. "Can you just drop me around the corner, Clive?" Alex hoped that using his first name would draw a certain bond between the two, making the man putty under his hands, alas, the bald, pockmarked face in the mirror gave him a slow shake of his head.

"Mrs. Montrose-Payne told me to drop you at school, so that is what I will do." Alex groaned, wishing the leather would swallow him up.

"So, how long have you worked here?" He asked after a time, wishing the entire day was just over and done with. Clive didn't reply, he just gave Alex an impassive glance in the rear view mirror before turning his eyes back to the somewhat busy roads. "Not a talker, huh..." Clive was no talker, that much was clear. Alex let his thoughts drift back to school instead, wondering what it would be like.

He didn't consider himself a snob or anything, Olga had made sure they had it drilled into them that jut because their family had a certain amount of wealth it didn't make them better than anyone else, but he still bristled slightly at the thought of a public school.

If what he had heard was true, he'd be getting a swirlie and having his face smashed off lockers all in the first ten minutes of school, then he'd probably have lunch shoved in his face and be violently beaten at the end of the day to top it all off. Being the rich kid was a stigma he didn't want to live with, especially when his mom and dad weren't even _that _rich.

Okay, so they were pretty rich, but it wasn't like they lived in a mansion. Sure, aunt Helen lived in the crumbling family estate, occupying only one of eight bedrooms, while Candice resided in a huge, airy seven bedroom colonial mansion, but _he _didn't live there! He lived in god damn suburbia, with a police officer on one side and a contractor on the other!

"I want to die." Alex buried his face in his hands as he realised he had arrived at school at the _exact time _that everyone got here. The place was packed, kids everywhere, looking odd to him in their own clothes when he was used to a blazer and tie, a few staring over at the Bently.

"I'll park next to the most expensive car, Sir." Alex couldn't help but laugh as he realised Clive had some humour in him, pulling up next to a little Porsche with a – Alex couldn't help but notice – very attractive guy lounging on the door with his eyes focused on his phone.

"Thanks." He muttered, gathering his bag and starting to get out,

"I will collect you at three thirty, yes?" Clive said, seeming to have appeared from nowhere on the outside of his door, making the whole thing even more awkward as people looked over at the ancient man holding open the door for Alex. One girl even _pointed_, actually pointed! He wanted to cut off her fingers, or maybe something less twisted than that.

"I'll ride back with Rory, thanks though." He turned, forgetting that Clive hadn't met his brother yet, "Rory's my -"

"- Brother." Clive finished for him, face impassive. "Eighteen years old, red haired, and a sportsman." Clive did know everything about everybody, after all.

"Oh, well yeah. See ya." Alex didn't know how he was supposed to say goodbye to a driver, so he just gave him an awkward wave and turned around to walk into school, going head first into the Porsche owner as he turned around.

"Watch it!" The other teen bristled, checking that his clothes weren't dirty as he regained composure. A biting comment about being thrown out with the trash was about to leave his lips, but then he noticed that this kid was the owner of the fantastic Bently he had seen driving in, too engrossed in his phone to realise it was parked right next to him, until now.

"Sorry," Alex said testily. He might have been nervous about coming to a new school, but he wasn't about to be pushed around.

"Dude, nice _wheels_." The guy grinned, running his hand across the shiny black surface, a curt cough from a sentient Clive making him back off. "Is this your granddad?" He extended a hand, hoping to curry some favour with this kid so he could check out if he had any other sweet cars.

"Uh – no, he's, I dunno, my grandmas friend." Alex shrugged, not wanting to introduce him as a driver.

"I am Mr. Payne's driver." Clive answered for him, face impassive as always.

"Oh – okay. I'm Jackson." Jackson ignored Clive now he knew he was just some hired help, extending a strong hand to Alex.

"Alex." He replied with a nod of his head. He was dying to drop his gaze as Jackson stared him down and tried to crush his hand, but his dad had taught him the secrets of a good hand shake; a firm grip and lasting eye contact.

Jackson was happy too, maybe this kid wasn't trash after all. They fell into step together, walking by the 'Beacon Hills High School' sign and inside the building. It was a flurry of activity, more than Alex had ever seen. And it was so _colourful_, all the people making up thousands of rainbows against the backdrop of open lockers, their contents adding to the activity. His prep school had been all dark, stoic and quiet, all the boys clones of each other in uniform, but here was something new all together. Jackson was talking to him about cars; Alex wasn't an expert, but he knew enough to save himself from looking dumb as Jackson spoke, headed to registration.

"I gotta go to the office and sign in and all that," Alex told him, turning to go down a different hallway. Jackson thought for a second before he called out to a retreating Alex,

"Join us at lunch, yeah?" Alex almost gagged, a lunch offer was the golden ticket he needed. He'd make friends, not be alone, and this guy seemed pretty nice. A little arrogant maybe, but he was being friendly enough.

"Yeah, okay," Alex looked around as the bell went, his words carrying over the sea of students to Jackson, "I'll just find you!" He had to shout at the end, he was being forced along at an alarming rate. Jackson gave him a nod and a slight smile before his face returned to its usual pout and he walked away.

He was grinning like an idiot by the time he arrived at the reception, going through a long huff and puff over his timetable and map of the school. By the time he set off for his first class the halls were abandoned save a few stragglers. He felt like an idiot with the map in his hand, but the school was a maze of halls and stairwells, he needed it. Room 412, AP English Language. It was one of the few AP courses he was doing, and mainly because of his one vague idea of a career; being a writer.

"Ah, the late comers." The teacher looked up from the passage he was reading and gave a dramatic sigh. A few students giggled, while most everyone turned to stare at Alex. He wanted to die, but he forced his head to stay up, his eyes baring into the teacher in what he hoped was an apologetic gaze.

"I'm new – I had to register." Alex waved the timetable in his hand through the air as if it was a get out of jail free card.

"I suppose that's a good enough excuse."

"Where shall I sit?" Alex looked around the room, seeing a few empty seats here and there and panicking. What if he sat next to someone horrible, or, even worse, someone who _smelled _horrible.

"Sit next to the boy you think is the cutest." Alex almost had a heart attack as he registered his teachers words, shocked laughter erupting from the rest of the class. He was glad it had been ice cold in the office and his cheeks were too cold for the blush to penetrate the skin. "No, I'm joking, this isn't Donnie Darko." A few students, Alex included, got the reference and snickered.

"Cellar door." He muttered, grinning as he followed the teachers fingers to the seat he had pointed to in the third row, between a grinning boy and an equally grinning girl. A quick smile passed over the face of – it was written on the board – Mr. Porlin, and he seemed to warm up to Alex. One point to Donnie Darko for helping make his teacher like him.

"So, A Tale Of Two Cities..." The teacher began as Alex fished out his pen and paper and got to work.

* * *

The day had been a blur so far. Surprisingly, the lessons had actually been real lessons. At his old school the first day had always been a slow introduction to the new year, usually full of talking and maybe a movie or two. No such luck at Beacon Hills High, he was worked to the bone, especially by Mr. Porlin, who he had for AP Language and AP Literature, and had taken a special shine to Alex, always drawing him into the discussions. It was a good job he had read A Tale Of Two Cities last year at school, else he'd be miles behind everyone else.

He almost had a panic attack when he walked into the dining hall and as assaulted by hundreds upon hundreds of teens, all clustered in groups talking amongst themselves, backs turned away from those they didn't know. Any karmic powers that existed in the world were given a silent prayer as Alex scanned the room for Jackson, finally spotting him on a table of eight that only had four people on it.

Jackson had noticed Alex as soon as he walked into the room, but he wasn't about to start shouting across the room for him to join them. He gave a slight wave when Alex locked eyes with him and began ambling through the crowd.

"Hey," Alex gave a small smile to the three strangers and Jackson as he sat down next to a bored looking girl wearing almost as much gloss as his mom had been wearing when they first moved into town.

"Yes?" The girl looked to him, her eyes wide and questioning.

"I invited him," Jackson explained, giving the girls hand a squeeze. She relaxed somewhat, returning to her salad with another bored look. "This is Lydia," He nodded to the girl, "Danny," The boy on his left was given a playful punch on the arm, "and Scott." He gave a rather strange glance to the guy opposite Alex, his brow furrowing for a second.

"Nice to meet you." Alex gave everyone a perfunctory nod, talking to them for a few seconds before he headed off to actually get something to eat. He left his bag on his seat, Jackson had told him more people were joining so he had better save a space, and Lydia had giggled something about wannabes trying to take his spot.

He had no idea what was happening as lunch progressed, a girl joining Scott after a few minutes, who was probably the most friendly one there after Danny.

"So why did you move here?" Danny asked as he chewed on some very unappealing stew creation.

"Oh, my aunt got sick so we came back for, like, moral support. My dad grew up here." He gave them a shrug, hoping he didn't have to launch into a cancer conversation at his first meeting with these kids.

"That's nice," Allison gave him a smile, explaining how she had been the new girl last year. He felt a little better when she told him about how nervous she had been at the start of the year, especially because she was held back for moving around so much. Alex wondered if she had leaning problems. It didn't seem like it judging by the AP Chemistry book underneath her lunch tray.

"Coach is so damn annoying," A somewhat familiar voice reached Alex's ears, looking up and recognising the teen who was approaching, though he couldn't quite place where from.

"Just get better at lacrosse and coach will give you an A." Danny grinned.

"It's not my fault I don't have the _natural skill _of people like Scott here." The words were laced with sarcasm, but Alex didn't get it.

"This is Alex," Allison explained as the new arrival sat down right next to Alex.

"We're old friends," The guy grinned as the others exchanged a confused glance.

"We are?" Alex asked, looking up to join in with the passing of confusion over the table, feeling his heart jump a little at how this was already some kind of inside thing. He knew he was being dumb, but it was hard not to be happy when he actually had some friends.

"I live next door. Stiles." Stiles gave him a huge grin, and suddenly he remembered the mud coated guy from next door he had met on his first day. He had almost forgotten about the guy.

"You live next door?" Scott questioned, looking from Stiles to Alex.

"It was after _that _night, you know – when you ruined all my clothes."

"Aw, is your bromance going to the next level?" Jackson joked, smiling straight back into Scott's glare. Alex had no idea how Scott could have ruined Stiles' clothes and coated him with mud, but each to their own. It not like he was in a position to judge someones sexual preference.

"Jackson, we all know you tried to tempt Danny boy with a video of you... _pleasing_ yourself. So zip it." Alex choked on a leek as he snorted, looking over to see Danny squirming in his seat.

"Is that true?" Alex asked with another grin as Jackson shook his head and threw a pen at Stiles.

"No. I was looking for – uh – something else. Forget it." Alex thought he wouldn't mind seeing a video of Jackson '_pleasing _himself', but he kept his lips shut. The grin wouldn't leave his face as lunch continued, they didn't leave the table for the entire duration, sitting there as the place thinned out, leaving their empty trays in front of them and talking amongst themselves. It was all lacrosse talk and strange hints about the woods that Alex didn't get, but he joined in when he could, hoping he had passed whatever trial period he was in.

"I have gym," Stiles groaned, joining the boys on one side of the hall as Allison and Lydia walked in another direction.

Alex fished out his timetable and glanced down the sheet, "Oh, me too." Double gym, last thing.

"Everyone has gym now." Jackson frowned, leaving Alex out of his glare – he would let the guy off for now, the cars still had to be checked out.

"They don't." Alex said in defence, waving back to Allison and Lydia headed into a Physics class a few yards down the hall. Jackson gave him a glare.

* * *

"You don't have a kit. Well what am I supposed to do about that?" The coach, one hand on his hip and the other holding a clipboard, asked as Alex stood in front of him, empty handed.

"I'm new." He held up his get out of jail free card once more in explanation, and was directed to a bin full of dirty old t shirts and very dodgy looking shorts.

"Payne," He almost missed the t shirt that sailed through the air, he wasn't used to being addressed by his last name. Jackson gave him a nod, "you don't want one of those."

"Nasty." Danny agreed, slipping out of his jeans and shirt.

"Thanks," Alex smiled, joining the boys on the bench after finding the best looking shorts he could.

He reflected about how strange gym class was as he shrugged out of his shirt and stuffed it into a locker he had been instructed to use. It was strange that he never seemed to get turned on when he was getting changed in a room full of guys, it wasn't like Jackson wasn't good looking, the guy was _built_, but there was something so clinical about a locker room, it almost made him straight.

"What's this from?" Alex shivered slightly when he felt a finger tracing the scar in his back, turning to face a very almost naked Danny.

"Lay off the guy," Jackson grinned, pulling shorts up over his jock, "Danny here is looking for a new boyfriend."

"Just when I fell over as a kid." Alex explained through wide eyes, letting out a breath as Danny retreated. At least he didn't have to worry about being gay bashed or anything. "Shit," Alex shot a glance left and right as he undid the first button of his jeans and remembered what he was wearing. The slut underwear.

"I can be first line again!" He could hear Stiles shouting in the distance, drawing a few glances from the other boys. Now was as good a time as any to quickly change. He pulled down the jeans and whipped them off as fast as lightning, glancing up to see a a boy give him a frown as he took in the red briefs.

"Fuck," The bulge created by the wonderjock – which he _had _bought as a joke, his best friend from home had dared him to walk around Central Park in nothing but the underwear – was obscene in just the tiny black shorts, which hadn't looked so short and tight when he first picked them up. He looked like there was a sock stuffed down his crotch.

"Looks like someone's excited," The coach laughed as he looked over at Alex, causing a few boys to look up and grin.

"Oh ha-ha." Alex retorted, trying to find his t shirt so he wasn't so exposed any more. Hopefully it would cover the bulge somewhat. He found the thing slung over Jackson's shoulder in the mirrors, grabbing it off him and sighing when he saw it was a little short, a small layer of skin exposed above the waistline of his shorts; he was a few inches taller than Jackson.

"Looks like we have someone who likes to show off," Coach began as all the boys stood around him. Everyone was in a t shirt that was a little too big so they wouldn't get sweaty, and shorts that fit as they should. Alex thought he looked like a go-go dancer or something, it made him want to die. "You can show off on the field. If you're good, I'll let this little outfit disaster go. Hell, if you can keep up with the likes of McCall and Whittemore you can play naked for all I care."

"What about me?!" Stiles protested as the boys snickered around him. Coach just gave him a lingering look and a shake of his head.

Beacon Hills was all about lacrosse, Alex soon found out as he ran up and down the field, thanking the skies and anyone who would listen for not giving him the fat gene, if he was wearing this outfit with flab hanging all over the place it would be even worse than it already was. In fact, it wasn't _that _bad, it was something to laugh about, something to talk about with the other guys in gym with him, and with Jackson by his side he seemed to be a pretty hot commodity, quickly working out that he was the typical popular jock guy.

Danny gave him pointers on how to impress Coach Finstock, urging him to ignore Jackson and Scott, who he couldn't keep his eyes off. It was almost unbelievable how quick they were darting up and down the field, laughing and grinning without even needing to catch their breath. He didn't know if the Cyclones bred superhuman lacrosse players, but these two would have slaughtered everyone at his old school.

His try-out (it was unofficial, but Alex knew coach was watching him like a hawk to see if he'd found a new star player) wasn't a disaster, but it wasn't great. Alex was quick, that was true enough, but he couldn't get the hang of catching that _dang ball_ with his crosse. Luckily there was no contact as of yet, he was just being tested on how he could catch and throw, having had no chance to change into padding.

"Come on, Payne! You're quick, work on catching, it's not hard!" Flinstock shouted across the field. Alex could throw well enough, he had decent upper body strength, but catching was just a no go. No matter how well Jackson set the pass up Alex would miss almost every time. The few times he caught the ball he easily lobbed it through a very uncoordinated Danny's goal, wondering why the guy kept staring at him with his mouth hanging open.

Danny, in fact, couldn't take his eyes off the treasure trail of dark brown hair that kept appearing when Alex raised his arms into the air to try and catch the ball, the hidden muscles that at first glimpse you would never have noticed straining as he moved. Not for the first time, Danny reflected how hard it was being gay on a team full of jocks.

"Okay, I've seen enough of this train wreck," Coach grunted, waving Alex over, "go home and work on catching until your knuckles bleed." Alex gave him a frown, "If you can improve that you could be a good player. Everyone knows a good player can have a few skills pulled in economics." Flinstock grinned, nodding his head as if he'd let Alex in on a huge secret.

"Uh – okay." Alex shrugged, being on the lacrosse team would be better than struggling through economics, that much was for sure in his eyes. The assistant coach waved him over to talk about trying out for the track team, which Alex was far more interested in. He was good at track, at least he wouldn't have to work so hard, plus it would make good old Candice happy.

A few boys muttered words of encouragement, Danny offered to help with his catching – a pretty generous offer, he was a goalie after all, Jackson made plans to come round and visit Alex's house, a guy named Greenberg (who was sporting a nasty looking pink eye) joked with him about Coach Flinstock, and Stiles grumbled about how the new guy had almost stolen his spot on the team as they headed back into the locker room. One again Alex found himself grinning like an idiot, everything was going so well; if you didn't count the evils he was getting from Stilinksi.


	3. Lacrosse & Dogs

"You're such a tool." Rory fumed, shooting a death glare at Alex.

"You can't even drive!" Alex retorted, making sure his seatbelt was on properly, he was in no mood to be sent flying through the windscreen when Rory crashed. The two brothers were headed home from their first day of school, a sweaty Rory and a freshly showered Alex bickering as the little red jeep trudged down the street.

"Turn, _turn_!" Alex sunk back into his seat, resigning himself to the fact that they would never get home, and to the fact that he may very well be dead in the next few minutes. "Did you get the wits beaten out of you during soccer?"

"It's better than freaking lacrosse," Rory gave Alex's arm a punch, wishing his brother hadn't been heckling him so he could have jumped in the shower. After gym class Alex had hung around for Rory at the school gates, finally going inside to look for him and finding him playing soccer on the fields out back with some guys he had made friends with. Sam, with a cheery flip of her blonde hair, had informed Alex she had no space in her car, her and three girlfriends (told you she was a social butterfly...) were going out after school. He had hung around on the bleachers till Rory was done, practically shoving him into the car so they could get going.

"Go left, this is right! What are you doing?!" Alex turned in his seat to look back at the turn off Rory had purposely missed, going the complete opposite direction just to annoy Alex.

"Shut up and maybe I'll get us home." Rory cranked up the radio to block Alex's protests, bobbing his head along to the music – irritating Alex even further – as he finally got on the right road. Alex closed his eyes and tried to block out the annoying music (he thought Rory had crap taste) and instead let his thoughts wonder back to his first day of school.

It occurred to him that it should definitely be considered a success. The day had gone off without a hitch, for the most part. Okay, there was the embarrassing incident in English and the outfit he had to wear for Gym, but overall it had been pretty great. He wasn't sure if the people he had hung out with at lunch could really be classed as 'friends' right now, but he was definitely going to join them again tomorrow, hopefully they wouldn't push him off the table and ignore him. He had four new numbers in his phone: Jackson, Scott, Allison and Danny, an offer to officially try-out for lacrosse if he could improve, and an offer to try-out for track; a team he knew he'd have no problem getting onto. If his next door neighbour hadn't been glaring at him in the locker rooms it could have been perfect.

Stiles had been giving him evils all the way through practice. The guy had been fine - great even - at lunch, but as soon as Alex started getting attention from the coach and the other players he had became a pariah to Stiles. Alex didn't know if the guy was jealous or he just didn't like him, but he just hoped he wouldn't try and start anything.

The blaring of a horn and the feeling of his neck swinging forward jolted an oblivious Alex from his thoughts, looking up with pain and anger flashing across his face to find Rory frantically beeping the horn, sticking his head out of the window and shouting at the car in front of him. Alex's driveway and Stiles' driveway were side by side, separated by a small wall overgrown with hedges, and both cars had gotten jammed as they tried to turn into respective driveways at odd angles, resulting in Stiles' jeep being slammed against their wall, and the front of Rory's car narrowly avoiding a crash with the side of Stiles' car.

"Are you kidding me!?" Stiles' head was stuck out of the window, glaring at Rory, his expression getting even darker when he noticed Alex.

"Fuckwad! Get the fuck out of my way!" Rory screamed as Alex snorted beside him – clearly he had anger issues.

"It was your fault!" Stiles yelled back.

"I'll smash your face in! Move!"

"Rory." Alex grunted, hoping his brothers new found – that was the understatement of the year, the guy had been angry since he hit the big one eight – anger didn't extend to physical violence. Stiles seemed to back off when confronted with the idea of actually being hit, grumbling with as much confidence as he dared muster and backing out, hood scraping against Rory's.

"Asshole. Who is that kid?" Rory asked, shooting a glance at Alex as he drove up their twisting drive. Alex had told his family the brief story of Uffie running up onto Stiles' drive on their first night, but Rory hadn't been interested then. Now he was very interested indeed.

"The sheriffs kid, so I wouldn't even go there." Alex replied with another snort of laughter. He felt bad for the guy, but hey, he had been giving him evils all through gym – he was glad his brother had given him a little scare.

"What's all this commotion?" A huffing aunt Helen was rooting through old boxes of family photos in the garage as they pulled in. Alex noted Sam's car was there – if she'd lied about not being able to give him a ride home he'd have to find some way to pay her back, maybe a frog in her bed or something along those lines.

"Ass face kid next door almost ruining my new car." Rory answered, slamming his way out of the jeep and trudging up the two steps to the door that led to a basement utility room. The garage was lower than the rest of the house, with the first floor built over it. Even through the thick floor Alex could hear blasting music, Azealia Banks he gathered, and guessed his mom was in the studio above doing some painting.

"I didn't see what happened." Alex said to Helen, putting his hands up and shrugging at her prying expression. She didn't believe it wasn't Rory's fault, the kid was always getting himself in trouble. "I had my eyes closed until we freaking crashed!" Alex continued, laughing to try and escape her raised eyebrows. "What are you doing anyway?"

"Trying to find those stories you wrote for me when you were little. I put them in one of these boxes and brought them over, my garage was all damp and everything was getting ruined." She picked up a family photo that was hardly visible any more due to the running ink and warped edges with a pained expression on her face.

"Please don't read them out." Alex stuck out his bottom lip, putting down his backpack and helping her sort through the albums.

"They were good," She protested, "but I won't read them. How was school?"

"Good, actually. I apparently need to work on catching with my crosse if I wanna make the team." She gave him a glance as he spoke.

"Since when were you into lacrosse? I thought track was your thing."

"Yeah, it is. But the people I was hanging out with all play lacrosse, so, you know." Alex shrugged, hoping she didn't think he was being dumb. He tried to explain, "I know I wasn't into it before, but I could just get into it, at least I won't be a loser. And Jackson – that's like the first person I met – wants to come round and see what cars we have, because grandma made Clive drop me off." Helen burst out laughing.

"You must have looked like an idiot," A grin spread across both their faces. "But Alex, you don't need to explain. There's nothing wrong with wanting to fit in." She gave him a soft smile, one which he returned in full. He had a feeling the rest of his family wouldn't be so understanding.

* * *

"You shouldn't have to be somebody you're not just because you want _friends_." Olga shook her head as if friends were something no one would ever need or want.

"Playing lacrosse isn't 'being somebody I'm not'." Alex replied, frowning. "It's just a sport."

"It's dumb." Rory added, shoving an apple into his mouth.

"- And this is the kitchen." Sam's voice added to the din as she showed the three girlfriends she had brought over the last stop on their tour.

"Hey girlies." Rory leered with a grin, an piece of apple hanging from the corner of his mouth, the girls discomfort obvious on their faces.

"My dumb brothers." Sam explained airily as she extracted cans of diet coke from the fridge. A secret smile passed between her and Alex just before she left the room; he knew she liked him really.

"I think you should do both if that's what you want." David, Alex's dad, said from his position at the kitchen table surrounded by two laptops and multiple open files, a pen clenched between his teeth. Alex had no idea what his father did, something with to do with buying independent stores and uniting them under a chain, he really wasn't too clear on the subject, but he seemed to be working non stop.

"Yes, do both." Olga agreed as she sliced up a carrot, slapping away a hovering Sammy who was dying to take over, Candice had instructed her to help in all cooking matters. "I'll let you do both, but I'm not having my son changing who he is to fit in." She kissed his cheek, throwing an apologetic smile over the counter.

"I'll never get a moment to relax." Alex complained, wondering how tired he was going to be from staying up to write. He usually liked to at least jot a few ideas down every day, usually late at night when he wrote best.

"You may not even make the team," Aunt Helen pointed out as she rooted through the fridge, putting down the chocolate and grabbing a stick of celery instead, "you said you needed to practice catching. I'll help if you like."

So help out she did. Alex had changed from his uniform into his favourite relaxing outfit of navy sweatpants and a grey t shirt, one that thankfully didn't cling to every inch of his body, and was running up and down the garden with a crosse that had been Rory's in his brief lacrosse period of 2010. They tested it out from every angle, the ball clanging off the high fence between the Payne and Stilinski gardens over and over as Alex missed most of the time. He caught it maybe five out of forty times, and one of those times resulted in a broken window when he attempted to launch the ball gently back into Helen's arms and ended up putting too much force into it, a yelping Helen rolling onto the grass with a huge thud as the ball sailed through the foliage at the end of the lawn and smashed the bathroom window of the guest house.

"At least you're good at throwing." Helen had grinned, rolling onto her back and laughing till her sides hurt.

"I'm never going to get it." Alex grumbled with a small smile on his lips, it was kind of funny after all. They were both over lacrosse by that point. It wasn't like coach had actually set a date for his trial, it was only day one, he assumed he had a few weeks to get the hang of it.

Dinner was the usual affair of bickering voices all trying to be heard above one another, made even worse because Candice was there, with one of her friends in tow.

"So Alex, how was school?" The woman asked, tilting her head to the side and giving him a smile.

"Good I guess." Alex replied, not really sure what to say. He didn't even know this woman.

"Mrs. Whittemore here has a son at Beacon Hills High." Candice informed Alex with a tight smile, mentally willing him to engage in the conversation more.

"Jackson?" Alex asked, remembering that his last name was the same as hers. Mrs. Whittemore perked up when she realised this boy – who she had thought seemed a little anti-social – knew her son. They soon got to talking all about him, about lacrosse, about Lydia, and about cars. The woman had a surprisingly decent knowledge of the things, probably given to her by her son.

"May I be excused?" Alex didn't wait for a reply, he was always allowed to leave, it was just a habit by this point. Dinner had been decent, but he was bored.

* * *

As he walked up to his room, flicking through his phone as he did, he considered calling or texting one of the kids from school, maybe seeing what Jackson was up too. But his mind was in a turmoil, was it too soon, would he look too eager? He flopped onto the bed with a groan, wondering what he had done to deserve such a hard life.

He tried occupying himself on the computer, watching a few videos, scrolling through a few boring websites, but he just wasn't in the mood for it. He rooted around on the shelves for a movie, finding hundreds of choices he enjoyed but always remembering the boring bits and throwing the case back into the pile. He couldn't concentrate on a book, didn't need a shower, and had no one to talk to save his family.

"Uffie!" Alex made a clicking noise with his tongue as he laid flat out on the bed, his head hanging upside down on the edge. "Oh, Mary Jane, you shouldn't!" He snorted as Uffie bounded into the room and started licking his upside down face. She was soon flying through the air as he grabbed her stomach and lifted her onto his chest, hoping she'd fall asleep; the dog going to sleep on him always made him sleepy too, and there really weren't many options but sleep.

"Stop being so hyper," He grinned, chasing her in circles around the rumpled sheets. A staring contest occupied him for five minutes, and he burnt off another five copying every move Uffie did; sticking out his tongue, tilting his head, pawing at his face. "I'm bored!"

It was as if the dog knew. Uffie ran out of the room with the wind in her step, returning five minutes later with the hot pink lead clamped between her teeth. Alex shrugged into a pair of jeans and added a sweatshirt over his grey t-shirt, shouting to deaf ears that he was taking Uffie out. It was early evening, the sun just beginning to disappear beyond the trees, and the perfect time for a dog walk.

He wished there was something he could do apart from walk Uffie, he loved her, but she wasn't really the best conversationalist.

"Why do you think Stiles hates me?" Alex asked Uffie as they ambled slowly along the pavement, headed towards the field a few blocks away.

She barked in response.

"Yeah I think he's a jealous idiot too." A grin spread across his face as he realised he was walking down the street talking to himself. What was his life coming too? White headphones were soon jammed into his ears to try and distract him from doing any more out loud musings, roaming in circles around the grass of the field he had finally reached as Uffie ran in circles and foraged around in the bushes.

There was a small playground to one side, with just three swings and a see-saw, but it was better than nothing. Sitting on the swing made him feel like he was a loner in some cheesy movie, so he tried to spice it up by cranking Kick It by Peaches up to maximum volume and throwing himself as high into the air as he could. The grin on his face got wider and wider as he climbed higher into the air with each swing, finally reaching what he supposed would be his most impressive height and vaulting from the seat, headphones flying out of his ears as he sailed through the air.

"Fuck!" The roll he had decided to lunge into at the end of his flying jump in some James Bond fantasy of his had resulted in a rock scraping across his back, ruining his whole super spy exit. Hobbling along the grass clutching the cut in his back, Alex threw himself down at the base of a tree to regain his energy, groaning when he felt the blood on his fingers.

At that moment Stiles decided to appear out of the trees, his clothes coated in mud, another pair of jeans all torn up.

"Fuck my life." Alex muttered, glancing up from under his lashes to give Stiles a glare.

"You." Stiles grunted, looking over the hunched frame of Alex at the base of the tree. He felt superior being able to stand over him, but it was soon replaced with a pang of worry in his stomach as he noticed the blood, looking around the clearing for what – or who – could have caused it.

"What?!" Alex asked, taking in the strange looks shooting from Stiles' eyes as they darted this way and that way around the clearing.

"Are you okay?" Stiles ignored Alex's question – it wasn't really something he could explain.

"Yeah." Alex grunted, he was in no mood to talk to this guy, he hadn't exactly been friendly during practice, now he was catching him while he was down.

"What happened?" Stiles asked, leaning down so he was on Alex's level. "Let me see," He insisted, trying to turn Alex's shoulders.

"You don't even like me," Alex grunted, glad he was bigger than this guy and would be able to fight him if it came to that, though he was actually being pretty nice, "why do you care about this dumb cut?" His back was actually in agony, but he wasn't willing to admit that to Stiles.

"You mean gym, right?" Stiles asked as Alex finally relented and let Stiles turn him around, lifting up his shirt so he could inspect the red gash. "This is pretty nasty." It would probably scar, Stiles thought as he looked at the four inch slice. It didn't seem deep enough to need stitches, though.

"Yeah, you were glaring at me."

"Just having a bad day I guess. Sorry." Stiles wasn't willing to elaborate on his real feelings of resentment towards this new guy who had showed up and managed to captivate everyone on the team – including _Jackson_, who still disliked Stiles after all these years – despite not even being a good player. Coach had gotten his name down perfect, it had taken him years to learn Stiles'.

"Why are you in the woods?" Alex finally asked the question that was bugging him, craning his neck and seeing mud smeared over Stiles' neck and forehead.

"No reason," Stiles smiled, trying to distract Alex, "why are you here?"

"Walking my dog." He looked around for Uffie, not seeing the little black mongrel anywhere. Stiles looked up at the sky, the full moon just beginning to brighten up, peeping through a cloud as the sun got lower and lower.

"Where is she?" Stiles glanced back through the woods he had came from. Panic spread across his face as he realised where they were, realised he wasn't home yet, this damn back was distracting him.

"Who knows," Alex shrugged casually, she always came back. Stiles fished his phone from his pocket frantically, his face a mask of worry. "What's up?" Alex frowned. "You're pretty strange, you know..." Alex felt his words were confirmed when Stiles jumped up from the grass and ran head first into the trees, back the way he had came.

A wolf howled in the distance, a torrent of barks joining the cry as the last sliver of the orange sun fell behind the trees.


End file.
